Unreal
by Tsuki's Angel
Summary: For DOMN contest--Natsume was always antisocial. He never talked to anyone, and preferred to stay alone. What happens when someone actually decides to talk to him? She can't be real--can she? "You're voice," she said. "It's nice." NxM


_**Unreal**_ **_won Best Story That Moves You and Personal Favorite in the contest. Thank you for reading and more importantly, thank you for your wonderful votes._**

_This is a submission to Disorder of the Mind: Natsume contest. If you wish to participate, see Rekindled Moroseness's profile. Submission starts on January 14 and ends on March 8. Voting period is from March 12 to March 20 and the winner will be announced on Rekindled Moroseness's profile on March 22._

Title: Unreal

Pen name: Tsuki's Angel

Type of disorder: Social Phobia

* * *

**Unreal**

**By Tsuki's Angel**

_**-Social Phobic-**_

* * *

_**. . .**_

_"No one will ever see  
This side reflected  
And if there's something wrong  
Who would have guessed it?  
And I have left alone  
Everything that I own  
To make you feel like it's not too late  
It's never too late."_

_**. . .**_

"_You're not real_," he thought as he looked at the girl standing in front of him. "_Why are you standing there_?"

"Hi, Natsume," she smiled. "Do you want to have lunch?"

People in the class stared at the girl's actions. Was she really brave enough to talk to _the_ Natsume Hyuuga? Nobody talks to him, and if they do, he will just walk away. Natsume was very antisocial because of his Social Phobia, and he and everyone knew that, but for some reason, nobody ever tried to fix it. They kept their distance and didn't talk to him—he acted weird and he barely ever talked. The girls found him very attractive, but wouldn't dream of asking him out. He just cringed when someone talks to him, and walks away. Most of the time, though, he blanches when he's crowded by people, and still doesn't talk.

Natsume stared at her, and suddenly felt extremely irritated. He couldn't deal with her. He simply got up and out of his seat, and walked straight out of the class—to have lunch on campus, alone, like he always does. _Mikan Sakura._ She had just transferred to the school a few months ago. She became instantly popular, and was constantly surrounded by people—the people whom he's been with ever since Kindergarten, but never made friends with. He found himself alone for these past eleven years, and wasn't particularly bothered by it. It was like that for him his whole life.

He sat quietly on the bench, suddenly not feeling hungry. Instead, he took out a book from his backpack and decided to read. The terrace was empty except for a student here or there, rushing to get inside. It was winter, after all. Nobody wants to eat outside in this cold weather. He looked up from his book to see snowflakes gently falling down on his face. They were all bunching up on the bench. Natsume couldn't help but feel irritated again. He felt himself clench his teeth and turn his head away and bury it in his hands. He was cold.

**. . .**

_Natsume sat on the round carpet in the middle of his room. He was playing with a blue toy boat which his deceased mother gave to him on his fourth birthday. He pretended he was on that boat, floating away so that he never saw his father again. He imagined himself being older, and being able to take care of himself. He imagined himself a life with happiness._

_Suddenly, Natsume heard the front door bang open and heard loud thumping noises coming towards his room. It was his father._

"_Natsume!" his father called him._

_He was terribly drunk, as he was every night. He came home smelling like alcohol and his face was always disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot and his coat was buttoned up all wrong. This was what became of the great Mr. Hyuuga. After Natsume's mother had died, his father had gone insane. He barely went to work anymore, and neglected him. Whenever Natsume tried to tell his dad, 'I'm hungry,' he would look at him in a way that would freeze Hell over. His dad looked at him with pure hatred. All he did was drink, wallow, and drink. His father approached him, and him being only five, he was never prepared for what was to happen. He would never forget this day._

"_Have some of this, Natsume! It's good," he told his son, holding out a box of Chinese takeout. It looked and smelled like toxic waste to Natsume. What had his father done to it?_

"_No," Natsume said, quietly. "I don't want any."_

"_But it's good!" he said, shoving the box at the little child. Natsume pushed it away, cringing at the reek._

"_I don't like Chinese," he said. "You know that."_

"_I know what?" he replied. He suddenly got very angry. "I brought this home for you, and this is how you repay me—by saying you don't want it?!"_

"_I don't want any," his small voice came. He played around with his toy boat, fixing the sails, pretending there was a sudden wind that pushed the boat away faster—with him on it._

"_Say that one more time," his father said, knocking the toy boat out of Natsume's hands. The boat hit the wall, and the sail fell off. Natsume stared at it and his anger rose like vinegar in baking soda. He stood up and clenched his small fist._

"_I don't want any!" Natsume screamed. "Mommy would hate you like this!"_

_Natsume looked at his father, and was frightened. His father was furious. He looked as if he could kill. Natsume's eyes widened and he found himself unable to breathe. There was something wrong. This wasn't his dad. His dad was always happy and never looked like this. He tried to remember. He tried to remember back when they would all go out on picnics just for the heck of it. He tried to remember his dad when he was sane. Natsume shut his eyes and tried to get rid of the ghastly expression. He opened his eyes just a bit and found his dad laughing. Natsume was confused._

"_You little brat," he said. "It's _all_ your fault. _Everything_ is your fault! If you weren't born—she wouldn't have died!"_

_Natsume was scared. He didn't know what to do. His dad pushed him, and he fell against the glass window. Natsume's father threw him with such force, that he broke the window. He fell back onto his side directly onto the glass. His father laughed, and Natsume held his shoulder tightly. His father turned around and left the house._

_Natsume stared after him and cried, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve this. He looked out the broken window, seeing the neighbor's light turn on. They started to talk as they looked through their blinds. He saw them all running outside, as he found himself losing consciousness._

**. . .**

Natsume lifted his head out of his hands and checked the time. He had been sitting there like that for half the lunch hour. He didn't know where the time had gone.

"Aren't you cold?"

He looked up, and found her there. He saw her expression—worried. He looked away from her, unable to speak. Why is she following him? Is she a stalker? She didn't talk to him before. She had plenty of other friends to talk to. Instead of walking away, she sat next to him. He felt uncomfortable with her there—self conscious.

"Why are you alone?" she asked a little quiet.

He didn't answer, but he glared at her. She saw this, but did not faze. She smiled instead, and giggled. He was a bit taken aback. Had he done something funny? Was there something wrong with the way he acted? Because, to him, there was nothing remotely funny about this situation—it was highly uncomfortable and he couldn't stand to be near her.

"Why are you laughing?" Natsume asked, mumbling.

She stopped and turned to look at him. He felt awkward with her suddenly changing her mood like that. He looked away from her, and decided to leave. Maybe she would leave him alone now that she said something to him.

"You . . ." she started. Natsume stopped, and he didn't know why. "You . . . _talked_."

Natsume felt himself stiffen, ". . . So?"

"It's nice," she said, aimlessly, staring at the falling snow above.

He turned around, "What is?"

"Your voice," she said. "It's nice."

To say that Natsume was surprised was an understatement. This girl, talking to him for the first time, said she liked his voice. He was just _complimented_. She looked at him, tilted her head, and smiled.

"_You're not real,"_ he thought furiously. "_It's just a hallucination. She can't be real._"

"Do you want to have lunch, now?" she asked. "I'm hungry."

She took out a handkerchief, and opened it on her lap. In it, there were two blueberry muffins. She held one out to him, inviting him to take it. He didn't know what to do or say, but felt himself taking the muffin from her hand and sitting right next to her. She opened her mouth and took a giant bite out of hers. She looked so innocent, and he was beginning to warm up. He took a bite out of the muffin.

It was warm, too.

**. . .**

It had been a week since the encounter, and Natsume felt his eyes wandering to her in class whenever he thought of her, which was often. He wondered why she was so different from everyone else. She talked to him like she had known him for years, like they were childhood sweethearts or something. His eyes unconsciously and once again wandered over to Mikan just as she spoke to answer the math problem. Mikan laughed nervously and Natsume waited for her to speak.

"Eh . . . I don't really know," Mikan mumbled, grinning a goofy smile.

Jinno, their math teacher, pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sakura, I suggest you do your homework this time."

She replied, "Ehehe . . . I'm sorry."

Jinno shook his head and asked the next person the same question. Natsume easily figured out the problem in his head, but as always he remained silent. He yawned and stared out the window just as the bell rang for study hall. He stayed in the class.

"Mikan!"

Natsume heard someone yell her name. He glanced over to her direction and saw her hugging a guy with dark hair and eyes. He looked older and Natsume recognized him. He was Tsubasa Ando, the senior in the class next door.

Mikan beamed as she hugged him. Natsume twitched. He suddenly felt very irritated. Why was she hugging him? Was she dating him? Was he her friend? Was he her cousin? Was he her brother? Did she intend to tell him off in comparison to Ando? Did he do something wrong? What did he do wrong? He definitely did _something_ wrong.

Natsume felt his jaw clench. He looked away. He knew she wasn't real. She never intended to be his friend. She only wanted to hurt him.

What did he do wrong?

**. . .**

"Natsume!"

He ignored her. There was nothing she could say to get him to listen. He was afraid that she would say something to him.

"Natsume! Wait!"

His pace quickened and her heard her footsteps quicken as well.

"Natsume! I have to ask you something! Do you want to go to a movie with me and some of my friends this Friday?!"

Natsume stopped. He felt her crash into his back and heard her breathe heavily. Was he _allowed_ to go? Sure _Mikan_ invited him, but what about everyone else? Surely they would not want him there. And what if Ando came? What if he hugged Mikan again? What if he started to ask him why he knew Mikan, or why she talked to him? What if he didn't answer? Would Mikan hate him for that? There was no way he was going. He never went to social gatherings, even if in small groups. He hated them and they made him feel uncomfortable.

"Finally, you stopped! Did you hear me correctly? I asked if you wanted to—"

"No," Natsume blurted. "I'm not going."

He continued to speed walk until he was sure she wouldn't follow him.

**. . .**

Two weeks had gone by. Natsume was sitting in a vacant art room on a stool in front of a canvas. He had a palette of paints all assorted in different colors. Right now, he was just painting a background. He hadn't decided what the main attraction would be yet. There was something about deciding what he would finish this off with that made him think for a while.

He dipped his brush in the green paint, mixed it with some sky blue, and let it fly across the canvas. By repeating this for a while, Natsume laboriously finished one corner of the painting. He sighed in satisfaction as he ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a bright sky blue streak going through it without knowing. He resumed his painting, this time, working on the bottom corner instead of the top.

"What're you painting?"

Natsume dropped his brush and palette, letting the paint mess up his school uniform. He now had rainbow pants and shoes. He inwardly cursed as he saw the mess.

"Ohmigosh. Natsume, I am so sorry! I'll help you," she said.

Mikan leaned down at the same time he did, causing them to collide heads. They both slipped on paint, fell backwards onto their bottoms, and Natsume found himself beginning to feel self-conscious. He was always afraid of looking stupid. He was always afraid that if he said the wrong thing, everything would go dark again, just like back then.

He then heard laughter like the sound of bells.

He looked up from the paint spill to see that it was Mikan with a paint-covered skirt and legs. She was laughing and pointing at Natsume. Natsume felt himself losing it. Why was she laughing? Why did she suddenly start laughing? He looked stupid and just totally embarrassed himself. Natsume furrowed his eyebrows. _What was she going to do now_?

"You . . . look . . . so . . . _funny_!" she giggled. "You're covered in paint."

Natsume clenched his jaw. Why did he feel that everything that he did make him feel like someone would criticize him about it? Natsume was tired of it. He was tired of being afraid. He stared past her as he spoke the first few words he's spoken in days.

"You look funny, too."

Natsume watched as Mikan blinked once, twice, and then burst into spontaneous laughter once again. Natsume was confused. How could someone find something so little so funny? He shook his head. Mikan continued to giggle as she reached over and ran her thumb across his cheek. It startled him, but he let her touch him.

"You have blue on your face," she said, smiling.

"You have blue on your legs," he retorted.

"You have green on your legs," she mocked.

"You have green on your skirt," he replied.

"On my—?!" she said as she checked her skirt. "Aw! I have paint all over it now! Mom's going to kill me!"

Natsume felt something bubbling up inside him. He opened his mouth and found himself _chuckling_. He immediately stopped after he heard himself. He hadn't laughed in the _longest_ time. He glanced at Mikan who was staring at him with a bright face.

"I like your laugh, Natsume," she said. "It's nice."

Natsume just stared at her incredulously. She liked his _laugh_? This girl was starting to confuse him. First, she says she liked the sound of his voice, and now his laugh? Does this girl have a mental complex or something? Oh, wait; _he_ was the one with the disorder. He scoffed and looked away from the girl, staring at his canvas which held an uncompleted painting on it. He spoke up again.

"I like your laugh, too."

**. . .**

A few weeks passed by, and Mikan Sakura had lunch with Natsume everyday on the same bench. They didn't talk much, but they enjoyed each other's presence. She brought something for him every single day, even though he didn't ask for it. Sometimes she brought a nice PB&J sandwich and other times she brought some of this candy she called _Howalon_. He didn't like sweet things very much, but he never told her. He had gotten a little more used to her presence, and didn't feel as bad talking to her.

"Don't you just love the snow, Natsume?" Mikan asked one day.

Natsume wasn't really talking, but she knew he had said yes with that slight nod of his. The cold winter wind blew, and she saw his hair blow along with it. His black locks looked so soft and she wondered why he wasn't snatched up by some girl by now. Her eyes wandered down to his hand, which held the edge of the bench tightly. She placed her hand over his, without thinking. He stiffened, but made no move to take her hand off of his.

"It's cold out here," Natsume replied gruffly.

Mikan giggled, "Then let's go inside."

"I'd rather stay out here," Natsume retorted.

"Okay," Mikan easily replied. "But when your toes freeze off, don't come crying to me."

Again, they sat there in silence. Mikan hummed a tune while Natsume listened. The silence was peaceful until it was suddenly interrupted.

"Mikan!"

Natsume's head snapped up to see Ando, the one sole individual he never wanted to see in person. He looked to the ground and pulled his hand away from Mikan. Mikan noticed this immediately and gave Natsume a confused look.

"Mikan, aren't you cold out here?" Tsubasa yelled.

Natsume felt uncomfortable. _Highly_ uncomfortable. He knew that he shouldn't feel this way, because he was only in a crowd of two, but whenever _Ando_ was around, he couldn't help but feel . . . _challenged_, like they were fighting over something and he knew he was losing whatever it was. He suddenly got up and walked away, hands in his pocket. Mikan was left calling after him. He didn't turn back.

"Natsume! Natsume—"

"Why are you yelling to him?" Tsubasa asked.

"He just suddenly left," Mikan said.

"Don't let it get to ya," Tsubasa replied with a wave of his hand. "He does that to everyone."

"Why is that?" Mikan asked. "He's always so alone . . ."

"The kid's got some mental disorder," Tsubasa replied with a wave of his hand. "Just leave him alone and he'll be fine."

"But," Mikan protested. "Doesn't he have any _friends_?"

Tsubasa shrugged, "As far as I know, he's been alone his whole life." He paused then continued, with a little more energy. "I heard, that his dad's always drunk. There are rumors going around about him, Mikan. I don't really think it's a good thing to stick around with him."

"And why not?" Mikan asked hotly. "Just because his family had an issue, doesn't mean he deserves to be put out like that."

"His dad is _insane_, Mikan!" Tsubasa said. "The police had to go over to his house!"

"Who says?" Mikan asked, crossing her arms. "I never heard of such rumors. Who started them?"

"Nobody started them," he replied. "They just know."

"Well, I'm not going to spread them," Mikan said, turning away and running after Natsume.

Natsume had run to the other side of campus, where the Northern Woods are. He slumped against a tree and breathed deeply. It was too cold to be running. While running away, he heard yelling. It was about his father being insane. That's all he heard, though. He was too angry after that.

"Natsume!"

Oh, great. The annoying chick was here. Natsume cringed as he saw her approaching his sitting place.

"Natsume," Mikan breathed. "Why did you run? Did Tsubasa say something to you? Did he—"

"Do you want to know why my father is insane?" Natsume said suddenly.

Mikan blinked, "The rumors are true? Even the ones about the police going to your house?"

Natsume nodded, "It's all because of me."

Mikan paled, "A-are you a delinquent?"

Natsume sighed, "No, nothing like that, stupid."

"Oh," Mikan said. She sat next to Natsume. "What happened?"

Natsume turned his head away from her. It was better if he did make any eye contact with her if he were to tell her this story.

"My mother," Natsume said. "She . . . went out to her friend's house, where I had left my coat earlier that day. It was raining outside, and it was terrible weather for driving."

"Was she okay?" Mikan asked, quietly.

"No," Natsume bit out. "She died. She died because of me. My father's hated me for it ever since."

"Natsume," Mikan said incredulously. "It is not in any way your fault! It was an accident!"

"I can't change that, can I?" Natsume snapped. "He hates me and I don't care."

Mikan felt a flurry of emotions, but all she wanted to do was hug him, and that is exactly what she did. Natsume was surprised and taken aback when Mikan wrapped her arms around his neck and tackled him so that his back hit the ground. Natsume noticed that she held him way too tight.

"Don't say that!" Mikan said. "He's your _father_. He _can't_ hate you."

Natsume swallowed thickly. He didn't know what to do. Mikan lifted her head and looked at Natsume.

"You're not alone," Mikan said. "I'm with you . . . and it's not too late. You can fix things up with your dad."

Natsume didn't know what to feel. He heard the words he's wanted to hear his entire life. _It's not too late_.

Maybe . . . it was _never_ too late.

"You're with me?" Natsume asked.

"All the way," Mikan whispered, her eyes welling up with tears.

"And why are you crying?" Natsume said, a bit skeptical.

"Because I never knew how hard your life was," Mikan said. "I just always thought you didn't want any friends."

"You were mistaken," Natsume replied.

"I'm sorry," Mikan said.

"It's not your fault," he replied.

Mikan looked him in the eye, "It's not yours, either."

And she kissed him.

She was real.

* * *

**Wow. Sappy ending. I didn't want to make it long. I wanted to keep it short, simple and to the point. :D I don't know if it's any good, but I tried. :)**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


End file.
